Rise of the Bidoof
by ArchXDeath
Summary: Beatrice Stacks (or, as her classmates would call her, "Chubby" Stacks) is a rather unfortunate lass plagued with the disease called "does-not-fit-society's-body-image-standards." She decides she'll show them all in the championships. The best part? She'll pick the supposedly worthless Pokemon she has been compared to since childhood to do so; it's time for the rise of the Bidoof!
1. Because of Dick Dickson

**Author's Note: Honestly, I have no idea what the heck this story is. I thought of it randomly, and it has no real plot behind it whatsoever. I meant to write this as some oneshot joke fic, but then I kind of got a little into it...**

 **Erm. Anyway, this is to help me get back into the writing groove. Updates will be sporadic; I might update tomorrow, or I might not update for two years. We'll see. Enjoy this...crap.**

* * *

One thousand students were watching her as she rose to the stage. Valedictorian, the principal had announced; valedictorian, followed by her name.

There was something positively euphoric about the moment. She sent a smirk to one of the boys as she walked down the aisle – Dick 'n' Dicks (real name: Richard Dickson; Arceus, his parents must have hated the kid to name him _that_ ) –, who just rolled his eyes. Yes, it wasn't being the best out of everyone in the school that made this so great; it was being _better_ than everyone in the school that made this oh so worth her efforts.

She stepped up the stairs slowly, trying to be as graceful and as poised as possible. For once, nobody snickered. Nobody laughed. Probably all felt sick to their stomachs that they had lost out on this competition, as they should.

She addressed the principal, whose lips were pulled in the faintest smile. The old man's head twitched, and if she hadn't seen the old man's wrinkled old face at least once a week for " _another_ case of bullying," she was sure she wouldn't have even noticed. The geezer never seemed to so much as breathe or blink, let alone show emotion. But he had definitely nodded.

 _You did it_ , he seemed to say. He held out an open hand to her, and she shook it, taking the diploma he handed to her with the other hand. He glanced at the crowd of seated students, and for a second, she thought she saw a smile.

"Beatrice Stacks, as valedictorian of the class of 2015, you may now declare your starting Pokémon."

She wiped her hands as surreptitiously as she could on her graduation gown and tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. She cleared her throat, and as he handed the mic to her, she took it shakily, facing the crowd of students.

Beatrice closed her eyes and took a breath. _Relax, B, relax._ She had worked so hard for this. The proof was in her hands – literally. Scars etched her hands, and she was glad that her studying days were over.

She could practically hear the crowd roll their eyes. A couple of grumbles sounded through the audience, and she heard a distinct "Arceus, who thought we'd lose the Eevee to _that_?" A couple snickers voiced their agreement, though a teacher shushed them.

Nothing new. She opened her eyes and smiled. With the mic to her lips, she spoke clearly. Each. Word. Emphatic. "I choose...Bidoof."

Silence.

"Bidoof," she repeated, turning to the principal. She dropped the mic into his open hands, grinning. Principal Owen's face was as calm as ever, but his eyes were frozen on her. "That's my choice."

Another couple of seconds passed. Her voice echoed in the hall.

Then the laughter started.

She ignored the roars and guffaws, seating herself back in her spot. She looked straight on ahead to Principal Owen, but she could see Dick 'n' Dicks glancing back at her from a couple rows in front. The students around her did nothing to hide their sniggers.

"Damn, even _she_ knows what she deserves!"

"What an _idiot_!"

"Looks like _family_ comes first, huh?"

It was all just ambiance at this point. She watched Principal Owen call up the second pick – Dick 'n' Dicks himself. He chose the obvious choice, Eevee, earning him many groans from the crowd. Then the third pick (Charmander), the fourth (Snivy), the fifth (Piplup), all the way to the tenth-highest ranking student, who chose Chikorita.

Principal Owen then proceeded to call up the other graduates, though these were much quicker: applause, handshake, diploma, and then the next student by alphabetical order. Only the top ten got to choose their starters in Red Maple Academy; the rest got to have their luck tested in a lottery. Nobody in the lottery ever got a Pokemon like an Eevee. Those were practically reserved for the valedictorian – they were called the "teacher's pet." Some would be lucky and get the remaining prized "classic starters" (the elemental trios of each region); others would cry themselves to sleep when they have to start with a "tears starter." Then there was everything in between.

Beatrice got a number of glances throughout the rest of the ceremony, though most of these were curious ones rather than abusive. Why would she have chosen a _Bidoof_? What valedictorian would subject themselves to such torture? She swore she heard the word "masochist" thrown in somewhere, and she couldn't help but chuckle to herself a little.

Masochist, huh. That was the public opinion of a Bidoof – that it was painful. That it was torture to even have one. She'd been called Bidoof enough to know the connotation. But as she took the Poké Ball from the principal at the end of the ceremony (who gave her a rather concerned look, as if he were about to call an ambulance), she gave him a wide smile and held the Poké Ball gingerly in her hands, as one would a baby.

"Are you sure about this?" Owen asked her.

She just nodded in response and hugged the old man goodbye.

* * *

Her parents saw her off. Maybe it was because of her choice of starter, or maybe it was just because they were worried and wanted her to be safe, but her parents had bought her half a dozen Ultra Balls rather than the customary regular kind. She thanked them graciously, enduring her mother's last (twenty) kisses and her father's unconvincing "it's-not-like-I'll-miss-you-or-anything! B-but-you-better-visit-often, you-hear!?" farewells.

And with that, Beatrice finally was free of Jubilife City.

...Well, until Dick 'n' Dicks sprinted past her, anyway.

"Heh, too fat to catch up, Chubby Stacks?" he sneered.

She rolled her eyes. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you at graduation."

He stopped in his tracks at that one, then turned to her. Dick 'n' Dicks was the kind of human that you either fell in love with or wanted to beat the ever-loving hell out of. For Beatrice, it was the latter; he was the dirty blond, rather slender, pretty tall, casually dressed stereotypical "ignorant white teenage boy" who didn't know jack shit about anything and just wanted to run his mouth.

Said mouth curled back into an angry scowl. It was a little arch of death. She wondered if there was a pot of gold in the corner of his mouth, like there was at the end of rainbows.

"What, you got beef with me?" Beatrice snapped, glaring at the boy.

His blue eyes narrowed. "Trust me, you've got enough beef as is, Stacks."

"Yeah, it's amazing how well my family wanted to feed me after being _valedictorian_. It's funny; I always thought that the position was for number one." She smirked. "Right, Mr. Number-Two?"

"You asking for a fight?"

"Perhaps. After all, Mr. Number-Two, you're just so damn full of shi—"

A white flash blinded her momentarily. When her vision returned, she was not at all surprised to see the Eevee baring its fangs at her. She smiled at it.

"Aw, how cute. She's about as ferocious as you, Mr. Number-Two."

Dick 'n' Dicks laughed shortly. "And she'll kick your ass, just like I did. Let out your damn brother, Chubby Stacks – oops, my bad, your _partner_."

Beatrice rolled her eyes and pulled the Poké Ball from her belt. She felt the metal capsule slip slightly as she threw it, her fingers slick with a nervous sweat. She clenched her hand into a fist as if to hide it, glaring up at Dick 'n' Dicks.

In front of her was the majestic Bidoof. From his button eyes to his tiny circles for ears, his oddly curly fur and cozy brown coloring, his cotton ball tail and webbed feet, his teeth the size of one of his feet (or more), and, best of all, his adorable red nose that even Santa couldn't resist...

...Wow, she had made a huge mistake, hadn't she?

"Giselle, Quick Attack!"

The Eevee purred her approval, and a white aura whipping around her body like a cloak in the wind. She flashed forward, and Beatrice was sad to say that her little guy stood no chance of dodging. He was floored, and Dick 'n' Dicks' next command was quick to follow:

"Bite!"

"Justin, get up and Tackle!"

The Bidoof made some vague grunt of a response, only to have the Eevee's sharp teeth sink into his flesh. Beatrice winced and closed her eyes at the squeal.

"Finish 'em off with another Quick Attack!"

Beatrice had no time to react. It was safe to say that, despite her best intentions, Justin had been Ogre Lord Shrek'd.

She returned the defeated Pokémon to his capsule, biting the inside of her cheek. Dick 'n' Dicks picked up his Eevee, who licked his cheek affectionately, and he gave her a proud rubbing. He looked up at Beatrice with a smirk.

"So, regretting your decision?" he asked. He hoisted Giselle up a little closer to his chest.

Beatrice shrugged and looked away. "Only decision I regret is giving you an excuse to brag to me about it."

The boy snorted, then returned his Pokémon. He turned away and walked in the direction of Route 203. Beatrice walked him walk away before wiping the frustrated tears from her eyes.

 _Once a Bidoof, always a Bidoof_ , she thought to herself bitterly.


	2. Tribute to the Underdog

Red Maple had taught Beatrice many things, but two lessons in particular had stuck with her. The first was that, as long as you poured in enough effort, anything was possible. She had experienced that firsthand with becoming the valedictorian.

The second was that no matter what the situation, there was a certain degree of unpredictability that no amount of preparation could offset.

The latter lesson proved true once more as Beatrice was traveling through Route 203. She tried carrying poor Justin in her arms, then realized he was nearly half her weight and had to give up. Nonetheless, the Bidoof rubbed his head against her leg affectionately, traveling beside her in their painfully slow progress. She had checked the weather that morning - sunny all day - and thus had left rain gear behind for lighter travel. Unfortunately for her, the skies gathered clouds and threatened to rain.

So she and Justin rested under a tree, hardly even a few hours from Jubilife, and many, many hours from Oreburgh. She fished a packet of biscuits from her bag, tore it open, and gave it to Justin, who nibbled at it with lazy contentment in his button eyes. With an exasperated smile, Beatrice patted him on the head and ate a biscuit herself. Day one, and they had both lost their first battle and were being rained out.

Beatrice was unaware, but there was actually some fortune to having this rain. The spring had been replaced with blistering summer, and though the rain may have eased the heat of travel, the vernal newborns had grown as if spurred by the rising temperatures. Scents washed away, she and Justin were safe from such hunters of the fields, and the heavy rain prevented flight from hunters of the sky.

She was oblivious, though, sitting there eating her biscuits and watching the fields be watered by the heavens. She cursed her incompetence, to have lost to Dick 'n' Dicks. A lesser being may have blamed Justin, but she was better than that.

Instead she blamed Dick 'n' Dicks.

The remainder of the day was spent in similar fashion: fits of annoyance, feeding Justin snacks, and watching the sky. Once her watch struck seven, she decided she might as well set up camp if the rain wasn't going to let up.

Setting up the tent proved impossible. Even if she had had proper lighting, she doubted she'd have succeeded in pitching it. Frustrated, she gave up setting up a proper tent, instead stringing the waterproof cover along the tree branches to create a makeshift den. The rain against it was deafening, but it was better than being wet. Justin nibbled at her ankles in irritation, and she apologized for the noise.

Her sleeping bag would be a luxury to any seasoned traveler, but to Beatrice, she may as well have been lying on the bare fields. It was not comfortable, and she shifted around throughout the night, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. There wasn't one. Justin curled up into a ball by the tree trunk and fell asleep within minutes.

So Beatrice lay there for hours, staring up at the cover and trying to ignore the rain kamikaze-bombing against it. With the rain pouring into puddles around her tiny camp, the sound of splashing water joined the cacophony, further delaying slumber. And with Justin's snorting and slobbering in his sleep, there was an entire orchestra of tonedeaf dissonance.

Perhaps worst of all, she also needed to pee.

After several minutes of embarrassed reluctance and careful planning (how was she going to do this and not get rained on?), she returned to her sleeping bag, relieved, and felt herself finally begin to relax into slumber.

About five minutes later, she woke up screaming. Justin let out a heroic roar and pounced, but he only managed to bash into Beatrice's head, probably causing a minor concussion. The teen was too dazed to even give a pained exclamation. Instead, she crumpled onto the ground into an unrecognizable ball of hurt and shock.

The valiant Justin began combating the assailant, who, unremarkably, was felled after a single Tackle. Noting his Trainer's disoriented state, he took it unto himself to finish the job. He pulled the zipper of Beatrice's bag, dug through the contents to procure an Ultra Ball, and, lacking the dexterity to actually grasp the capsule, decidedly rolled it over to the unconscious foe.

The flash of light woke Beatrice, who let out a cry and leapt to her feet. Before she could reach the Ultra Ball, however, it emitted a small lightshow of sparkles and clicked! shut.

"Justin!"

The Bidoof strutted to his Trainer's side, swaying from side to side in swagtastic fashion. Seeing her scowl, however, he paused, whimpered, and lowered his head.

Losing her anger, she dropped onto the ground crosslegged and patted the Bidoof gently. "Oh, fine," she mumbled. "You were just trying to help me, right? Thanks."

She turned and picked the Ultra Ball up off the ground. Rolling it around in her palm for a few seconds, she hesitated before eventually opening it.

Inevitable disappointment filled her at the sight of the Kricketot.

It was scrawny and couldn't have been more than a foot tall. It almost seemed to be wearing a red cape over itself, its torso and collar a beige/cream color, but a red shell covering most of this undercolor. Its limbs, little nubs that they were, were black, as were its antennae.

Up close, the thing might have been sort of cute...but Beatrice knew very well what kind of Pokémon a Kricketot was: ridiculed for its uselessness. Even if she had swallowed down her pride and chosen Justin, a Kricketot was just...

A chime-like melody sounded in that rainy night, and Beatrice looked around in surprise. Her eyes fell onto the Kricketot, whose antennae were producing the symphonic noise. Beatrice couldn't help a small smile; the sound was awfully soothing - like the resonance of a xylophone mixed with the rustling of a windchime.

She always heard such derision for Pokémon like Kricketot and Bidoof, but hadn't both of these Pokémon shown her something she would never have gotten from a textbook? Justin may have been a goofball, but he did end up trying to protect Beatrice quite fearlessly. And this Kricketot was able to calm her with just a rub of its antennae, and it seemed delighted with her placated expression.

It was inevitable; the girl caved in. "Oh, all right, you can stay." Beatrice smiled and, noting the Kricketot's quite-wide collar, said, "You're a girl, right? How about I call you Aria?"

The pleased Kricketot chirped in agreement. Beatrice patted her on the head, gave Justin a good rubdown as a reward, then collapsed onto her sleeping bag again. Somehow, it was much more comfortable than it had been last time.

"Ahhhh..." she sighed. It was time for bed, and nothing was going to stop her this time.

Just as she closed her eyes, a gentle melody filled the air: soft like the wind and gentle as silk. Beatrice felt the tension leave her body, and before she knew it, she had entered into peaceful slumber.

Anybody used to sleeping in a comfortable bed with cozy sheets and a pillow under a nice ceiling would have difficulty falling asleep outdoors in a sleeping bag. Even if such a person /were/ to fall asleep, staying asleep is yet another struggle. If both of these are accomplished, the next obstacle is waking up after such a night.

Though Beatrice awoke that morning feeling relatively well rested, her body was in such agony that she simply lay there staring up at her makeshift cover with wide eyes. Apparently feeling his Trainer shift, Justin came over and licked her face. Aria, too, crawled on top of Beatrice's sleeping bag, nestling into where her stomach was.

Eventually Beatrice got up. She tried stretching out her soreness, gave up after about two minutes of excruciating pain, resigned herself to packing up, gave up on that after about another two minutes of pain, forced herself to at least stuff her things back into her bag, then lay down on the ground in defeat. Everything hurt.

There was a rustle of leaves above her. She looked up to see Aria and Justin in the tree branches, undoing the canvas cover. Beatrice watched them in awe: Aria's careful instruction led the normally clumsy Justin, acting as the brain and he the brawn. Together, they succeeded in taking it down, though folding it up proved beyond them. With a mix of amazement and pride, she thanked them. If her Pokémon could do this, what was she doing lying around like a fool? She swallowed down her pain and folded the canvas herself, tucking it away carefully.

Finally, they were off again. They trekked across the muddy fields as a trio, snacking on biscuits as an early morning snack. Somewhere along the way, looking back to see Aria on Justin's back, both the Pokémon giggling like children, Beatrice decided that she had a mission: she would only take the so-called "rejects" into her team. People would laugh at her team, but the little guys would defeat any and all opposition - she was sure of it.

That meant she would have to become a better Trainer, or else she'd keep losing to people like Dick 'n' Dicks. She pursed her lips, breathed in deeply through her nose, then smiled.

 _Well, Oreburgh's a good place to start_ , she decided, and hummed the melody from last night as they walked.


	3. The Obvious Result, And Then

To somebody used to the vibrant city lights and colors, Oreburgh City was depressingly gray. Everything seemed stifled by the color gray: the buildings were made of gray rock, the roads and sidewalks were of gray cement, the people walked around in gray clothing, and even the sky itself seemed to covered with gray clouds. Beatrice stood out like a sore thumb, what with her bright red academy blazer and bright blue denim jeans. Bashfully, she made her way to what seemed the only coloration in sight: the anomalously red Pokémon Center.

The interior was a welcome sight of warm, cozy decorum. Beatrice had never been so glad to see color before, and as the bright pink hair of Nurse Joy approached her, she nearly jumped into the nurse's arms. The nurse offered to care for her Pokémon, and she happily handed the capsules over, renting a room for the night while she was at it.

And so Beatrice passed her first night in the Pokémon Center. The bed was comfortable, the room was cool, and everything seemed right in the world. She snuggled into the covers and fell into deep sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, she ate breakfast, took her Pokémon, and wandered around the city for a while. She saw the Gym in the distance, then turned around for something else to see. She came across the mines, decided it would be worth seeing (perhaps it wasn't a tourist spot, but why should she ignore the town's primary focus?).

So day two passed, with Beatrice learning from the old miners about excavations and oil refineries and the state of the economy and all that. She snuggled into bed once again and fell asleep.

Days three and four passed in similar manners, and it wasn't until day five that Beatrice noticed how restless her Pokémon were. Well, "noticed" is a bit gracious of a word; Justin tugged at her pants while Aria pointed in the direction of the Gym.

And so, reluctantly, Beatrice ventured to Roark's domain.

To less well-versed readers, here is what will soon prove itself as something obvious: Beatrice never stood a chance. As with any competitive sport, Pokémon battling is a realm of professionals; rookies with no real experience can't expect to beat a pro based simply on reading books and sitting in on classes. And even if you can fool around with a ball on a court and learn some moves from videos or watching athletes, actually playing in a match is a whole different scenario. The same goes for training Pokémon and battling.

Gym Leaders are the cream of the crop. They are the "athletes" who proved themselves to be the best. Somebody like Roark, though young, wasn't simply a cute face; he a monstrous amount of experience behind him. Mere words couldn't do justice to the countless months of hard work, the grueling losses and the clawed-for victories.

Somebody like Beatrice, fresh out of school and a Trainer for just a couple of weeks, was faced with a therefore obvious result: she never stood a chance.

"This will be a two-on-two single battle," Roark explained. He wore a gray miner's outfit with gold trim and black boots with red soles, and atop his head rested a rusted-red helmet. His face was smeared with dirt and dust, but his eyes were a magnificently shining brown-red. "You will be allowed to substitute and use items. Any questions?"

"N-none."

"You're new, right? Are you sure you want to do this?"

Beatrice bit her lip, but before she could answer, Justin jumped forward onto the battlefield. Roark shook his head, more to himself than to her. He may as well have been washing his hands.

"Then let us begin. Geodude, go!"

The stone field was lit up as the Rock Pokémon was released. To describe it – rather, him – as anything other than a rock with features would be difficult. Just a little bigger than Aria (slightly over a foot), the little Geodude was a muscular rock with arms, quite literally. Across from him, Justin admirably stood his ground, though his tail drooped nervously.

Beatrice struggled to recall what kind of moves a Bidoof even learned. She pulled out her Pokédex and scanned Justin: Tackle and Growl.

Tackle.

And Growl.

"Justin, Tackle!"

The Bidoof charged forward. The Geodude smashed his two fists into the ground, securing himself, and took the full brunt of Justin's attack. The sound of impact echoed in the room of stone. Justin was bounced backwards, skidded across the ground a solid foot, and struggled to even stand back up.

"Rock Throw."

Digging his hand into the ground, the Geodude tore up part of the stone floor and hurled the chunk at Justin. It smashed into the Bidoof, who crumpled onto the ground with a small whimper.

Before any more harm could befall the Bidoof, Beatrice returned him. She was torn between "Well, that was the obvious result" and "Oh Arceus, what have I done..."

Roark leaned towards the former, it seemed. "Do you seriously intend to continue?" he asked. His tone was sharp, but the words themselves were gentle. Beatrice shook her head and left the Gym without another word. He watched her go, returned his Geodude, and closed his eyes.

She had forgotten to leave him his cash prize, he thought, shaking his head. His lips curved slightly as he wondered when she would next appear.

Day six was spent apologizing to her Pokémon, and day seven was spent moping. On day eight, however, Beatrice decided that it was time to take action into her own hands. She reentered the mines, this time prepared for the worst. The miners who had so eagerly taught her about the coal they had harvested were now confronted by a girl asking them to teach her how to battle.

Not surprisingly, most of them were busy, but one miner and his daughter took the time to listen to the girl.

"Why not just catch a Pokémon that's strong against Rock-types?" the little girl asked. Well, that was what her dad translated, anyway; the girl's face was currently stuffed full of a jelly sandwich. The dad scratched his head before adding, "I'm going to have to agree with her there."

Beatrice shook her head. She gazed down at the two Poké Balls in her hands and, with a small frown, said, "It's not really about winning battles... I guess it's just pride. I don't want people to think that you have to look the best to be the best."

"Is it because you're fat?"

"Lily!" The miner scowled at the girl, but Beatrice simply laughed.

"No, no, it's okay." She nodded. "Yeah. I got made fun of a lot back in school. It's kinda silly, you know? Why do people think it's so important to look good or whatever? I like being pretty as much as the next girl, but just because I'm kinda chubby, I get made fun of."

Robert (for that was the miner's name) scratched his chin, leaving soot and charcoal to color his stubble black. "Well," he said, peering at Beatrice, "you don't fit the standard image of beauty, sure..."

Beatrice smiled weakly, but he continued:

"...but you know, you've got nice features. Your eyes are really pretty, you know? The green goes well with your curly blonde. And if you just smiled a bit more instead of that constant grimace – " Here, Lily made a face, pulling the corners of her lips down with her fingers and furrowing her brow. Beatrice couldn't help but giggle. " – see, like that! You don't have to be a scrawny beansprout to be pretty. You can be outside the standard and still be pretty."

Beatrice flushed red. She had never been called pretty by anybody outside of her family – so, well, never really been called pretty. It wasn't as if she had any friends; anybody who tried to get close to her was bullied for being into "fat chicks," and girls were just as bad as any boy when it came to her weight...

"My wife's a pretty chunky lady, but that doesn't mean she's not a beautiful woman. Lily inherited her looks."

Lily looked up with a grin. Her mouth was a distinct purple now.

Brushing the crumbs off of his hands, the miner pushed himself up off the ground, turned to Beatrice, and then frowned. "Hey, now!" he said. "You better finish that sandwich, or I'll be upset. Kids your age have to eat!"

She crammed the jelly sandwich into her mouth. "Fref, fhir!"

"Yezzuh!" Lily echoed in a slur, throwing her hands in the air.

"All right, training starts right now! We'll be starting with the basics – no backtalk, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Yezzuh!"

"That's the spirit!"

And with that, Beatrice found her first mentor. He wasn't a professional, no, but how many amateurs actually start out practicing with a professional athlete? Not many. Robert was more than good enough a teacher for the girl. With time would come experience. With every battle, she would grow. Subconsciously Beatrice had realized that the only way to overcome the years of experience that divided her and Roark was to find mentors such as these.

Robert was the first of many to come. Pride doesn't always mean doing everything on your own; it can also mean doing everything you can to reach your goals. Such was Beatrice's case.

After two weeks of training (and helping Robert and Lily in the mines), Beatrice stood once again in front of the Gym. And this time, things would turn out a bit differently.


	4. Biding Her Time

If there was a singular trait that irredeemably distinguished Richard from Beatrice, it was that he was a born genius. Not the "oh, you're so smart!" bright-minded little child who faded into obscurity as he learned that he was, in the end, nothing more than another commoner; not the gifted artisan or the talented athlete who always seemed one step ahead of his peers, constantly striving for more. Richard was above and beyond all of that; he was a true genius who needed no effort, whose innate battling prowess had always proven to be more than enough, whose raw intelligence had never once been challenged—save by a single individual.

Having the title of valedictorian stripped from him by a "fatass loser" was the first insult Richard had ever truly experienced. He had lost—not to a world-renowned expert, but instead to a little girl who didn't even know how to eat healthily. And instead of taking the opportunity she had _stolen_ from him, instead of choosing a powerful asset for herself, she had selected the single most awful handicap she could: a Bidoof.

So he crushed her. Utterly and totally, he crushed her. He would continue to crush her at every twist and turn until she acknowledged that he was, indeed, superior—that she had made a mistake. It infuriated him that someone could be so damn stupid. His anger was such that he didn't even really pay attention to his battle with Roark. Not that he had to; with his talent, the circuit was little more than child's play. Roark knew that—and, more importantly, Richard knew that.

He left, Coal Badge in hand, still fuming over Beatrice's insolence.

At that time, Beatrice was still preoccupied with training alongside Robert and Lily, and she wouldn't be prepared to battle Roark for another two weeks. When it was over, she thanked them for all they had done, took a day to recuperate, then headed to the Gym, with Richard already well on his way to Eterna City.

Every now and again, Beatrice would find herself thinking about Richard. She recognized his talent, and she was definitely envious of it, yet somehow, she was glad to not have it. Though she had been bullied and ridiculed, she had never once wished that she had been born with Richard's life; he had his own struggles that she acknowledged.

That's why she thought of him. She saw how his life had shaped his battling style and so sought her own battling form. A life lived shrugging off the mockery and abuse...what shape would that take?

She took a shaky breath, wiped the sweat from her palms onto her jeans, and pressed against the large double doors of Oreburgh Gym. Upon seeing Roark, she threw herself prostrate and offered up her measly savings, shouting apologies into the dirt for her stupidity.

He awkwardly laughed, stopped, then scratched his cheek before pulling her up. "You can keep the cash," he told her gently. He patted her on the head and added, "Though, thanks for coming back. You're the first Trainer who's ever straight-up run away from me, so I was a little worried."

An embarrassed but happy smile lit her face a pink shade. She pocketed the bills and swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat. "I'd...um, I'd like to request a rematch. A two-on-two single battle match, just like before."

In the silence, her words echoed. She glanced up anxiously, but Roark was just chuckling, a hand covering his mouth. Relief swept through her.

"My bad, my bad," he apologized, raising a hand. "It's not you. Well, it sort of is, but I'm not laughing _at_ you. It's always nice seeing Trainers come back for a rematch. It's exciting—what kind of things have you learned? What new strategies have you come up with? I can't wait to see them."

His eyes had a glint to them, like that of a polished stone: a hardy yet refined look that sent a jolt down Beatrice's spine. She felt her blood begin to pump; was this what a real Trainer was like? Just their mere presence could excite you?

"I'll gladly accept your challenge. I am Roark, Gym Leader of Oreburgh Gym. And you are?"

"B-Beatrice! Beatrice Stacks."

He held out his hand. She looked up into his kind eyes, shared his smile, and took hold of it. They shook.

As he crossed over to the opposite end of the battlefield, Beatrice tried to shake the nerves out of her body. She checked the terrain of the field—just the same old dirt-and-rock field—and tried to recall what she and Robert had talked about. She fumbled with Justin's Poké Ball.

"This'll be, again, a two-on-two single battle match. You are allowed substitutions and items. Let the battle begin!"

Roark threw a Poké Ball high into the sky, and Beatrice tossed in her own. The two capsules _clack_ ed against the ground, bursting open as they ricocheted back to the two Trainers. Even before the two Pokémon had fully materialized, Roark was shouting commands that Beatrice struggled to keep up with.

"Geodude, Rock Throw!"

"G-get down, Justin!"

The rock-with-features ripped up solid chunk of stone out of the field and flung it like a baseball straight at the still-glowing Bidoof. He ducked his head in a panic, and the rock missed his teddy bear ears by a sliver of an inch, crashing and shattering against the ground a dozen feet away.

Over the resounding thunder, Beatrice could barely hear Roark's command: "Rock Polish to Tackle!"

The Geodude spun around like a top once, twice, thrice, letting off a strange steel-colored glow. Then, with an astounding speed, he rushed forward towards Justin, tearing forward by grabbing at the field with his hands. He nearly barreled into Justin, but the Bidoof—with a quick "Jump!" command—did a clumsy front flip right over the rushing stone.

While the Geodude slowed to a stop, Beatrice called out to Justin, "Use a Defense Curl!"

The Bidoof tucked himself into a tight ball, sitting right-tight dead center on the battlefield. Roark didn't even hesitate as he called out, "Rock Throw, now!"

" _Rollout_!"

Just as the Geodude punched his open hands into the ground, Justin slammed into him, rolling so quickly that he tore a trail into the stone. Trapped by his own hands, the Geodude was smashed backwards into the ground, launching Justin into the air like a ramp.

As soon as the Bidoof landed, Beatrice followed up with "Rock Smash!" With an affirmative yelp, he jumped up with glowing paws, pummeling the dazed Rock-type into next week. When Justin pulled away, panting, it was plain to see the Geodude was unconscious.

Roark returned him with a smile. "Now that's more like it. You used my own moves against me—that was smart thinking. You must have done a lot of studying these past two weeks to get the timing down for that."

Beatrice shook her head. "It wasn't me. I just had a great teacher and've got great Pokémon. Right, Justin?"

She hugged the little guy to her chest, giggling as he licked her cheek. Roark chuckled.

"Either way, you've made tremendous progress. But that's only half the battle. I hope your teacher's prepared you for this!"

His second Poké Ball arced high into the air, and Beatrice lowered Justin to the ground for the second round. From the Poké Ball materialized a small, three-foot baby dinosaur-like creature. Its skin looked hard as stone and was a steel gray, though its round head and relatively short tail were shaded a shiny blue. Its hands and feet were both equipped with claws, and rounding the back of its head were four ivory spikes. Throw in its half-moon eyes with red pupils and the final product was...surprisingly cute.

Roark gave her no time to fawn over the little guy, as he shouted right away, "Cranidos, Headbutt!"

"D-Defense Curl!"

The blue dinosaur sprinted at the Bidoof. Like a rag doll, Justin was tossed up into the air, his limbs falling out of his defensive position and flaying in the air. He hit the ground with an audible _thud!_ , trembling as he got back up.

"Stealth Rock."

The Cranidos stamped down its foot, etching cracks along the entire field. Razor-sharp shards began levitating off the field, hovering menacingly in the air, but they did nothing beyond that. Beatrice bit her lip, then spoke her command.

"Rollout, around."

Again, Justin began to roll, digging grooves into the already-messy terrain. He did circles around the Cranidos, who stood there calmly, merely watching as the trails turned into trenches. Roark, too, said nothing, studying not the field but instead Beatrice, who shrank a little under his gaze. Something about the look was piercing through her, as if he were peering into her very thoughts themselves, reading her strategy.

Flustered, she changed tracks. "Rock Smash!"

The deep grooves proved somewhat of a hurdle for Justin. He crawled up out of them and onto the little island that the Cranidos stood upon and bravely charged forward, paws glowing—only to drop to the ground like a rock from a "Smack Down!"

Before the stubborn ol' Bidoof could get up yet again, the Cranidos Headbutted him, sending him soaring. He crashed, skidded a couple feet, then stopped dead cold just a couple feet from Beatrice, who ran over to him.

He was very much unconscious. Beatrice held him for a moment longer before thanking the Pokémon and returning him.

She had set up her hand; now all that was left was to play the cards. She puffed out her cheeks, let the breath slowly seep out of her, and steeled her resolve.

Aria's Poké Ball weighed heavily in her hand.

 _"_ _You want to fight...defensively?"_

 _Robert gave the girl an incredulous look. Beatrice simply nodded._

 _"That's...the way I've always dealt with things. Enduring the_ _m, never letting them know they were getting to me… It was my way of proving to myself that I wasn't losing to them. The moment I let them know that it was bugging me, they were winning, and I would have hated that."_

 _"But to fight defensively… Y'know, that might just work." Robert scratched his chin, looked to Lily, who was playing with Aria and Justin, and smiled. "Enduring until you get the chance to serve up a nice slice of revenge pie, right?"_

 _"Y-yeah. That."_

 _"I like it. You could beat Roark with that, if we do it right. All we've gotta do..."_

 _...is_ _play_ _the cards_ just _right._

"Let's finish this, Aria!"

The softest of melodies filled the Gym, a string of notes dancing along the air like the faint scent of flowers in the breeze. At a couple inches taller than the Cranidos, with a red exoskeleton and furled black wings, blade-like arms at the ready, Aria the Kricketune entered the fray.

The Stealth Rock surged forward at their target, their points like daggers, only to be broken apart with one arching Rock Smash. Roark's eyes lightened at the sight.

"What a gorgeous Kricketune. Is she…?"

"She evolved just a couple days ago. I had always read about how quickly Bug Pokémon evolved, but I was super surprised." Beatrice laughed, though her voice sounded awfully high-pitched. She cleared her throat and said, "Well, um, shall we?"

Roark pantomimed an apology. She smiled, then called out, "Aria, Rock Smash!"

The Cranidos waited for Aria to close in. She jumped over the gouges in the ground and raised a glowing-white arm. With a trill, she swung—

"Zen Headbutt!"

—and collided with Cranidos's head, which let off a pink-purple light. She was blown back, though she caught herself in midair with her wings, landing gracefully on her feet.

"Take Down!"

The Cranidos lowered its head and lunged at Aria. The Kricketune cast a look back at Beatrice, who nodded, watching as Aria took the blow. Her feet dug into the ground, and though she slid back a couple inches, she managed to push the Cranidos away. Her body flickered white for a second.

"Hm...Headbutt, then!"

Swinging its head like a sledgehammer, the Cranidos rammed into Aria's left arm, and she was thrown to the ground by the impact. She rolled onto her torso, trying to push herself off the ground with her body, one arm cradling the other. Another white shock lit Aria's body.

"Finish this—Stomp!"

"Aria, _Bide_!"

The Cranidos's Stomp met its target—sort of. Aria stopped it with an arm, white energy pouring out of her like spilling fire, and she batted the Cranidos away. It stumbled, tripped, and fell right into the trenches Justin had dug. Stuck, it could only watch as Aria raised her arm high into the air, its edge glistening. She brought down the blade, and everything around her exploded into dust and rubble.

Beatrice felt a cold sweat chill her skin. As the dust cleared, she could see Aria on one knee, only just barely conscious. She was kneeling in front of the Cranidos, who was in its own little crater, completely and utterly knocked out.

Roark returned his Cranidos and traversed the cracks and trenches to reach the still-stunned Beatrice. He smiled at her.

"Congratulations," he said, holding out his palm. On it was a little Badge, shaped somewhat like the helmet on his head. "You've officially won your first Gym battle. This Coal Badge is yours."

Beatrice opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked. "We won?"

"Well, I guess we're one-to-one at this point, but I think I can confidently say you've got this one down pat. And speaking of pats..."

He patted her on the head with one hand, dropping the Badge into her open palms with the other along with a couple bills. "You did well. Go thank your Kricketune, too."

She looked up at Roark once, gasped, then rushed over to Aria. She was practically screaming: "Aria, Aria, we did it! _We did it!_ "

Her joyous shouts echoed in that space. Roark smiled to himself, opened up the doors to let some air in, and stretched as he gazed out into the gray streets of Oreburgh.

And though neither of them could possibly know, it was out there. Far away, beyond the grimy coal, beyond the bustling city, beyond the rugged caves and worn paths, in the gentle town of Floarama, it was there, all right. In that town of flowers and honey, of fragrant teas and warm company, was the darkness.

It sensed the approaching Trainer and hid itself, cloaking itself with the shadows of overgrown trees. Richard turned, feeling its eyes upon him, but not knowing what to look for. He frowned to himself, picking up Giselle and holding her to him, worried for no reason.

He continued along his path, oblivious to the trailing shadows that threatened to choke his own.


End file.
